


A Dull Boy

by Unpretty



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Irrumatio, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Work, Size Difference, Spitroasting, The Shame Pit, Tieflings, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 00:02:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15036218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpretty/pseuds/Unpretty
Summary: That's adorable.





	A Dull Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Look. You saw the tags. You clicked anyway. I don't have to justify myself to you. You knew what you were getting into and I apologize for nothing.

Jester always enjoyed the feeling that came with entering The Invulnerable Vagrant. It was all carefully calculated to not seem carefully calculated, the cozy warmth and the color of the light from the candles, the way they flickered in a breeze that wasn't there. Even in the middle of the day there was no harsh sunlight—at best, a few heavily filtered sunbeams might make it through. Dark wood all polished, glass display cases, things that sparkled.

A good courtesan—and her daughter—knew a thing or two or about developing an ambiance. Transforming a transaction into an _experience_ was just good salesmanship.

Behind the desk, Enchanter Pumat Sol turned at the sound of a customer. Enchanter Pumat Sol was also arranging books onto shelves off to the left. Enchanter Pumat Sol was _also_ arranging a display of amulets off to the right.

Intermittent light from the workshop area indicated the presence of Pumat Prime in the back of the store.

"Hello," said the Pumat behind the desk, that wide and somewhat absent-looking smile. He was seven feet of soft-edged bulk, brown curls and grey velvet fur, bullish wide nose and furred pointed ears. Big brown eyes passed over and around her, looking for the rest of the Mighty Nein. "Oh, it's just you today. What can I help you with?" His voice was low and laconic, and each word came out stretched like taffy to three times its natural length.

"Hello!" she said, waving with both her hands. "I just hadn't been here in a while and I thought, you know, I should come in and see if there was anything new I might want to know about!" She was high-pitched and chipper, her Rs all half-rolled and extra words tucked into all the spaces where someone else might leave breathing room. Her tail swayed behind her as she walked.

Everyone else had _things_ to do. People to talk to, or places to get work done. Molly was going to come with her, but he'd ended up with _obligations_. He'd been horribly annoyed about it.

The thing about Pumat was that he was much more _familiar_ than most people she'd met since leaving home. Fine things, fine clothes, rings of gold in his ears and his nose. He'd have fit right in with the people she'd watched from her windows.

"You might need to be more specific, there," he said. "I've been— _he's_ been—hard at work replacing some of those pieces your friends have bought."

The sleeves of her dress went from her elbows to her knees, so she always had to be careful not to catch on any furniture. There was a circle of red glass on display, and she stuck her hand behind it to see how she'd look in purple. She'd been curious, since meeting Molly.

"Do you have anything you think I would like?" she asked, wiggling her fingers before once again moving toward the desk.

"Healing potions."

She made a sound of disgust. "I said _like_ , not _need_. And for _me_ , not the everyone else who is always dying."

He contemplated this. "There might be a more recent creation that fits that bill," he said finally. He turned around, crouching down to reach a low shelf behind him.

"What is it?" she asked, rising on her toes to try and better see behind the desk. When he turned around, he was holding up a silver necklace with a single large stone in the center.

"I call this one _The Troublemaker_."

"Tell me more right now immediately," she demanded. "What does it do?"

He brought it closer so that she could see it better. "It's pretty, for one thing," he said.

"It _is_ ," she agreed. In the candlelight the stone looked pink from some angles, and violet from others. It was set in rows of chains as delicate as thread, designed as a choker rather than to hang.

"The enchantment on this one will let you use a perfect copy of someone else's voice for one hour, once a day," he explained. "All you have to do is wear it. That's an Enchanter Pumat Sol original."

"No way! _Any_ voice?"

"As long as you know what they sound like," he confirmed.

She could sound like _anyone_. She could make them say _anything_.

"I have never needed anything more in my entire life," she declared.

"You want it?"

"Yes, I want it!" she said, bouncing on her toes.

"That'll be sixteen-hundred gold pieces," he said.

Her bouncing came to an immediate stop, her face twisting into a frown and her tail curling into a knot. "But I don't have sixteen-hundred gold pieces."

"Well that's mighty unfortunate," he said sympathetically, a rueful pull to his mouth to replace his usual customer service smile.

"Is there a discount?" she asked.

He scratched at his beard. "Respectfully, as much as I appreciate having you as a loyal customer," he apologized, "we do operate for profit here. You could always trade in another item, if you'd like to offset some of the cost."

She thought of the Wand of Smiles, but dismissed it. She didn't want to give up one thing she wanted for another: she wanted _both_ things. "I don't have anything," she said, forlorn.

"Then there's not much I can do."

"But I _want_ it, though," she whined, rising up on her toes and bending forward like she might tip over or collapse, her tail straightening up and out to maintain her balance.

"That'll be sixteen-hundred gold pieces," he said again, with the exact same intonation.

She made a discontented noise, did a pirouette of distress and stomped one foot with a swish of her tail. She squinted suspiciously at the necklace, her mouth pursed in a dramatic pout as she tried to decide if she really— _really_ —needed it.

... she could make herself sound like Caleb, if she wanted, and say filthy things to Molly.

She _needed_ it.

Jester heaved a massive sigh, and tried to do some mental math. She put her fists on her hips. "Who in this city," she asked, "would be the most _discreet_ ," she gestured downward with both hands to indicate the concept of _whispering_ , "about paying me to touch his dick?"

The Pumat to whom she had been speaking froze entirely.

"... allo?" she asked, rising up on one toe and bending her knee and waving one hand in front of his face.

"What seems to be the problem, me?" asked another Pumat, approaching the first.

"I only asked a question," Jester said, pouting again.

"Maybe I'll know the answer," the second Pumat said.

"I do _not_ know the answer," the first Pumat corrected, spurred back into what qualified, for him, as action.

"I don't?" Pumat asked.

"Respectfully? I do _not_ ," Pumat said.

"I guess you don't have any reason to know that kind of thing," Jester sighed. This was not the first time she'd overestimated how much the average person knew about such things. Some of them became _very_ offended about it.

"Is there a problem?" Pumat Prime asked, having emerged from the back of the store, goggles on his forehead and gloves on his hands, stepping between the other two Pumats. He looked at the Pumats, at the necklace one was still holding, at Jester. "Oh, I see." His smile always looked a little more strained than the other Pumats, though never quite unkind. "You're trying to get another discount, aren'tcha?"

"I wasn't this time!" Jester protested. "Well, yes, but I gave up _pretty_ quickly. I was going to earn the money! But I didn't want to deal with, you know, all of the _paperwork_ and _membership_ fees—and I don't really want to do this _all_ the time, and I think my mom would be _very_ upset if word got out about me—so I just thought I would _ask_ , you know, if you knew of anyone that I could just..."

She made a one-handed, curled-fingered, up-and-down gesture.

Two of the Pumats froze completely. One of them looked at the others, then nodded slightly as he looked back to her. He looked vindicated by this turn of events.

"Respectfully, I appreciate your work ethic, l'il lady—I think there's some stuff in the back you can shelf, me—but that's not really..." Pumat Prime looked at the necklace held by the remaining other Pumat. "That's—respectfully—an expensive item," he said, and Pumat nodded in agreement.

"It's—yeah, it's a _lot_ ," she agreed, "but not if you're, you know..." She made the gesture again. The Pumats nodded, then shook their heads. Jester came closer, and cupped one hand dramatically around her mouth. "Just between you and me," she didn't actually whisper, "my mom is _kind_ of a big deal."

The Pumats both tilted their head. Pumat Prime's eyes narrowed slightly, his mouth a question of a shape. A small change was a large expression in a mouth that size.

" _The Ruby of the Sea is the best lay ever_ ," she sang helpfully, wiggling along, her tail moving counter to her shoulders.

Pumat gave a small clap for the performance. Pumat pressed his lips together, head at more of a tilt, eyes more narrowed.

"It sounds better in the original Infernal," she said, tail drooping.

"You can go ahead and put that away, me," Pumat said.

"Already on it," Pumat said.

"No!" Jester stomped her foot again, tail lashing. "I'm going to buy it! I will! I just need to find someone who will pay for a lay that's half as good as the best lay ever—which is still _pretty good_ , you know. Not a _lay_ , I don't need _that_ much gold, but—"

Pumat Prime was scratching his beard, considering the empty shop and the other busy Pumats. He pulled a clockwork device off one of the shelves, and squinted at it. "You know what?" he said, interrupting her train of thought. "I've got time, why not. Come on to the back."

This time it was Jester who froze, even her tail unmoving. She looked from Pumat to Pumat. "What?"

"Yeah," Pumat said. "You want a trade, come on into the back and I'll see what we can do."

She leaned to look into the workshop. She looked at him. She looked at the other him. She looked at him again. "... h'okay," she said tentatively, and she did not walk as much as tottered, legs straight and kicked in both directions, her hands parallel to the floor and her arms stiff like a cheap wooden doll.

This had taken a turn somewhere that she could not quite pinpoint, but she was _on alert_.

He gestured toward the front. "Me, can you—"

"Already on it," he said.

Pumat Prime herded her into the workshop area, and she gasped, immediately distracted by raw materials and reagents and things that shimmered and glowed. Her haversack slid off her shoulder. 

"Hey, me," he called.

Jester peeled her gloves off, tucking them into the haversack before setting it aside. "So did you want me to—" She brought her hands up and wiggled all her fingers.

Pumat chuckled. "Oh, that's adorable. No. Respectfully, if you want that magic item you're going to have to earn it." Jester's tail drooped. "You won't actually have to do a whole lot, though, if that helps."

"You called?" Pumat asked from the door.

"Close the door," Pumat said.

"Got it," Pumat said.

"I think we're going to want her up on that table there," Pumat said, gesturing. "If we have a deal," he added.

"But that seems like a lot," Jester complained, her toes turning inward and her tail curling. "That's _much_ more gold than touching. My mom—"

"Your mom is the Ruby of the Sea," Pumat said, as Pumat picked her up by the waist and set her down on an empty span of table.

"Yeah," she agreed in a small voice, wiggling to fix her skirts and her sleeves and get her tail out from under herself.

"You're not," Pumat said.

"I'm _half_ ," she said, her lower lip jutting out as she unfastened her cloak and let it fall. It was a losing battle. The women in this town were _cheap_ , was the problem, so no one was used to the high-class prices her bloodline deserved.

"That's not really how that works," Pumat said, pulling his goggles back down over his eyes. "I still need to finish this here thing, so he's gonna take a turn first, if you don't mind."

"I should be getting paid by the Pumat!" Jester protested again, as Pumat turned away to work on what looked like a shield. She unbuckled her belt to set it aside and keep the sheathed sickle from clanking against the table.

"You'll have to try asking me next time," Pumat said, his hands around her ankles to push her knees up and apart. Her skirt and her underskirts fell up around her thighs. She splayed out her fingers on the table and planted her boots flat for stability as soon as he'd let her go.

She looked at Pumat, wholly focused on his work, as Pumat slid her knickers down to her knees.

"I think that I should get another haversack for this, also," she said.

"Maybe next time," Pumat said, before burying his face between her thighs. His nose was wider and flatter than she was used to, covered in that fine velvet. His tongue was enormous, and she gasped as it dove straight inside her. Her knees were trapped together and her boots were in the air, and her nails dragged against the surface of the table. Her tail wrapped around him for some semblance of stability.

His licks were languid, long and slow, pushing inside her and then sliding upward to brush the flat of it against her clit. One hand held her legs out of the way while the fingers of the other held her open. She leaned further back, her breath coming shorter. It was all so _slow_ , was the thing.

Then, all at once, his breath and his tongue were as cold as ice. She shrieked, but Pumat's hands kept her from leaping away or kicking him.

"Hey," Pumat warned.

Pumat rose up from between her legs, moving her knees to the side. "He prefers a more quiet atmosphere when he's working," Pumat said.

"Then maybe he shouldn't be trying to work while I am working!" Jester said.

Pumat ran his tongue over lower lip, and watching made her shiver.

"Fine," she huffed. She reached upward with one hand and made a grabby motion. "Give me my underwears," she said.

"Oh, I see," Pumat said. He slid them over her boots and off her legs entirely, and then—instead of handing them to her—pushed them directly into her mouth.

" _Mmmph_ ," Jester complained.

"Just thought I'd save some time," he said, and then he licked her again—warm, this time. It was another slow climb, her enjoyment mounting as his tongue worked. Once again, before she could really get into it, his mouth was ice. Her shriek this time was muffled, Pumat catching both her ankles with his hands. She squirmed furiously, and groaned when he sucked at her clit. One of his fingers slid inside her, and slowly he worked in another. One of her boots rested on the edge of the table.

He rose back up, pulling his fingers out of her. "There we go," he said, sticking his fingers in his mouth to suck them clean.

" _Mmmph?_ " she asked.

He unbuttoned his trousers to get his cock out.

" _Mmmph!_ "

"Well thank you kindly," he said, which she thought was _very_ presumptuous on his part.

She pulled her knickers out of her mouth. "I would like hazard pay, also," she said.

"That's adorable," he said again, putting them right back into her mouth, stuffing them in more thoroughly. He was _strongly_ overestimating how wide she could comfortably keep her mouth open.

Then he pushed her knees all the way up to her shoulders, and the head of his cock was pressed against her. Even wet as she was, it was slow going to force it inside of her, a slow stretch as his hips rocked. She groaned, muffled, her tail wrapping itself around one of his thighs. She gave up on supporting herself with her arms, pressing her shoulders to the table. She was trying to arch, or stretch, or _something_ to make her body line up more easily with his cock.

Pumat Prime spoke again. "Can you hand me the—"

"Got it," said the Pumat inside her, reaching over to a shelf up and to the left to grab a glass bottle. He leaned back to hand it off to Pumat.

" _Hmph!_ "

"This is still a place of business," he reminded her, before a particularly forceful thrust. She grunted, and was immediately mortified, because the Ruby of the Sea would _never_ be so _gauche_ as to _grunt_. Jester attempted a more acceptable moan, or mewl. Then Pumat thrust hard again, and she didn't know how she was supposed to _not_ grunt when she was getting _punched in the guts_. 

... with a penis. 

It counted.

This was all significantly more difficult than her mother made it seem, which perhaps explained why her mother would get paid more for a handjob than she was going to be getting for an outright fuck.

She whined, in part because of how she was getting stretched open, and in part out of a vague sense that she'd been seriously outmaneuvered. Then once more, this time mostly because of the stretching.

It was difficult to keep track of what she was supposed to be doing when he was rocking in and out of her, but it was also difficult to _care_ , was the thing.

" _There_ we go," he said, the head of his cock pressed against her cervix, finally buried to the base of him. It hurt in the very best way, the kind that had her panting for air through her nostrils, biting down hard on linen. He patted the leather of her corset over her stomach, a little patronizingly.

"Hey, me," said a Pumat, opening the door to the workshop

"Yeah?" said both Pumats.

"A fella's here to talk to me about a thing," Pumat explained, still standing in the open door.

"I'll take care of it," said Pumat Prime, setting down the shield. "You can go ahead and give me a hand if you want."

"I might take you up on that," Pumat said, as Pumat moved past him. He shut the door behind him.

Pumat had not, at any point, stopped drilling into Jester.

Pumat rubbed at his chin, leaning down to look at her as Pumat thrust and urged muffled noises out of her. "Not a whole lot I can do when she's on this table," he observed.

"Oh, that's not a problem," he said. "I was just keeping her out of the way over here."

"Do you mind—"

"Not at all," he said, pulling the impromptu gag from her mouth.

Jester flexed her jaw to work out the kinks. "What are we doing?" she asked.

"Do you mind getting those out?" asked the Pumat not fucking her, gesturing to the part of her top above her corset.

"I guess that would make sense," she said, pulling at the laces on her sleeves. Her fingers fumbled every time Pumat thrust, but eventually she had them undone enough to render her neckline loose. She pulled it down until her breasts were exposed, cloth caught underneath them. "They're good, right?" she asked, arching her back proudly.

"Oh yeah, I should have done that earlier," he said.

"That's why two heads are better than one," he said, tapping his temple.

Jester giggled. "Oh!" Pumat picked her up off the table, and she wrapped her legs around him, grabbing his arms. She was feeling a lot like a sockpuppet. But... on a dick. She giggled, apparently apropos of nothing, at the mental image. "What are we doing?" she asked again. 

"You're gonna wanna lean back, there," the Pumat holding her said, his hands on her hips.

She leaned back a little, but quickly decided she would end up tipping back dangerously. "That's scary!" she protested, her tail wrapped tight around his thigh.

"I gotcha," said the other Pumat, his hands on her shoulderblades. They were large and sturdy enough that she tentatively let go of the other Pumat's arms.

"It's like a trust fall!" she said as he guided her backward. "Oh!" She'd thought that his dick felt bigger than it looked, but when it was directly in her upside-down face, it looked _pretty_ big. "Hello," she said cheerfully. To his penis. She lifted her arms and pressed her hands to his pelvis to brace herself, cautious of getting tangled up in her own sleeves. His hands moved underneath her head to hold it still, hooked under her horns and fingers in her hair.

He thrust, and her whole body moved, and when she cried out his cock was in her open mouth.

 _Fortunately_ , one-half of the Ruby of the Sea was enough, since zero gag reflex divided by two was still zero.

That was definitely how it worked.

With her breasts out she was bouncing in both directions, and she was learning that she could relax much more than she'd thought she could. His hands had moved to her waist to support her better, and had taken to moving _her_ more and _himself_ less. Her nails dug into his trousers, having to time her breathing with the way he thrust into her mouth. It was _very_ tricky, since he was knocking the air out of her at the same time.

He held her head one-handed, and started pulling at her nipples. She clenched on his cock and groaned on his other cock, and pleasure rippled all through her. It would all be much nicer if she could _see_ , she thought. But Pumat was starting to make interesting noises, big aggressive huffs of breath that reminded her of an angry bull. That rhythmic thrusting between her legs was getting faster—not by _much_ , but still. She was taking him down her throat and feeling it stretch in unnatural ways, and it was all very... _moreish_.

Like eating an entire three-tiered cake on her own.

Her groaning turned to a long, lazy hum. All her nerve-endings had gone sensitive, and her back was trying to go into a tense arch between the two of him, putting him at strange angles with each thrust. That hum went high-pitched, might have sounded like screaming if her mouth and throat hadn't been so full.

She tried to tighten her legs around him to keep him where she wanted him, boots digging into his back, but he was entirely too big for that to work. She came in waves instead of all at once, smaller bursts of pleasure that didn't overwhelm her quite so totally.

It was _nice_ —it was _very_ nice—but it wasn't _satisfying_. It left all her nerve endings on fire, all her muscles weak, and she squirmed in Pumat's hands. It was all too much but she wanted _more_ , but _less_ , but _more_.

It was obvious when Pumat came, cock buried inside her and twitching, pumping her all full of heat. Her yelp was as muffled as any other sound she'd made.

"Do ya mind—" he began apologetically.

"I understand," he said, pulling out of her mouth. It made a _sound_ , and she gasped for air, her throat sore.

Pumat lifted her back upright, and she briefly clung to him as a reflex, his fine robes and their roughly-textured trim. It felt _nice_ actually. Huggable. All wide in the shoulders and soft in the middle, and he smelled a little like clover in springtime.

"Aw, hello there," he said, patting her on the head. He kissed her cheek.

"Oh!" His beard was curly and soft like the rest of his hair, and his cheek was velvety. "You feel like an expensive bed," she decided.

"Thank you," he said, lifting her up off of him as her legs let him go. Her tail lingered last as he set her on the floor, standing unsteady with her knees pressed together.

"Oh, this is going to get _everywhere_ ," she complained. She was pretty sure her underskirts were soaked already. Her thighs _definitely_ were, and her stockings were in _danger_.

"Respectfully, I would appreciate if you try not to get it on anything," he said, fastening his pants and gesturing to himself. He went a little fuzzy from his toes upward, the way Caleb had gone a little fuzzy. "I gotta get back to work, you two have fun."

She turned to the other Pumat. "Will you be able to clean me up later?" she asked, giving her best puppy-dog eyes.

"We can do that," he said.

"Did you still want me to...?" She poked her fingers into her dimples to indicate her mouth, twisting her hands a little.

"I would like that, yes," he said. His cock was still out, and hard, and jutting upward in an intimidating fashion. It was in proportion with the hand he was using to stroke it, but she wasn't going to be fooled.

"Here, give me a minute, okay?" She reached up to the slightly-taller-than-normal worktable to collect her cloak, balling it up so that she could set it under her knees when she got on the floor. This low to the ground, he really did seem to _loom_. "I don't know if I really liked that position," she decided as she was getting herself ready.

"Oh, well that's too bad," he said.

"I think it _could_ have been good, if, you know, it was the right _mood_ , and the right _dirty talking_ , and, you know, all that stuff." She got herself as comfortable as she could be on the floor. "I just couldn't _see_ anything, was all, and I _like_ being able to see your face." She got as high as she could on her knees, and huffed. "You are an _extremely_ inconvenient height," she accused.

"I have heard that."

She didn't think she'd ever seen him stand completely upright, his shoulders perpetually hunched.

"It's just, if you were _taller_ I wouldn't have to get down on the floor at all," she explained, wrapping her fingers around his shaft to stroke him. "And if you were _shorter_ , I could just sit down. It would be much easier."

"There's not really a whole lot I can do about that," he apologized.

"It's fine," she said. "I am a _professional_." She licked at the head of his cock, the now-familiar salty taste. "It would also help if you had whipped cream, and cherries and things," she added.

"We don't sell those here," he said.

"I know that!" she said, both hands working for the first time since she'd mentioned hypothetical handjobs. "I'm just _saying_ , is all."

"I could make it taste like frosting if that's something you'd be interested in."

She froze with a long, _loud_ gasp. " _What!_ " She looked at his dick in her hands, and then back up at him. "You can do that?"

"That I can," he said, "if you'll just take your hands off it for a second there." She let him go, and curiously licked one of her palms. "... I have not done anything yet."

"I was just _checking_ ," she said, watching as he ran his fist over his cock.

"See how that works for ya," he said, and she _pounced_ , grabbing his shaft and aggressively licking the head. "That's—okay."

She bounced on her knees, trying not to waggle his dick around but also definitely doing that. "It's like a glazed doughnut!" she said gleefully.

"That is not a toy," he said.

She licked at him again, continued to do so with great enthusiasm for longer than she should have despite knowing better. Finally she wrapped her lips around it, following her mouth with her hands to ease her way into taking it further. This position made it a bit trickier to go taking large things into her throat, since it wasn't a straight line anymore. She hummed happily as her head bobbed, letting the motion roll through her whole body, all the way to her hips. Eventually she could take one hand from his shaft, and then another, everything tasting of sugar all the while.

This was _much_ easier when it tasted like this. If he sold a potion that did this, he'd make a _fortune_. 

The door to the back opened. "Hey, me," Pumat said, closing the door behind him. "Thought I'd join in here, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," Pumat said. "Maybe you can help her out, since we seem to be an inconvenient height."

Jester took her mouth off him all at once with a _pop_ , indignant. "Hey!" she said. "Don't say it like _that_ , I didn't mean for you to take it _personal_." She licked at her lips, saliva and pre-cum all mingled on her mouth and down to her chin. "This is _really_ good," she added, pointing to his dick.

"Thank you," he said.

"You could make a _lot_ of gold with this," she added.

"... thank you?"

The second Pumat contemplated her position on the floor. "Should we do the—?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Miss Jester doesn't care for that one. She likes seeing my face."

"Aw, that's nice," Pumat said.

"It _is_ nice," Pumat agreed.

"Do you not actually like mouth stuff?" Jester asked. "Because I've been doing this for a _while_ now and usually men finish _way_ faster than this."

"You seemed like you were having fun," Pumat apologized. "I didn't wanna interrupt."

"Wh—I _was_ , but that is _not_ a good reason, just so you know—oh!" Pumat surprised her by dropping to his knees behind her, gathering up her skirts to hike them up to her waist. She was still all soaked and sticky, more from him than her. 

She yelped when he grabbed her by the base of her tail to pull her back against him, his cock between her thighs. She nearly lost her balance and tipped forward, but the other him caught her by the horns. His hand wrapped around her calf, lifted her leg and turned her sideways to rest her boot on his shoulder, her other leg on the floor without supporting her at all.

"I certainly can see both of you," she said, holding onto Pumat's leg for support. They both smiled, pleased with themselves. "I can take my boots off," she added.

"Unfortunately, that would be against workshop safety guidelines," he said. "Safety in enchantment development is our number-one legally-mandated priority." That didn't sound right, considering the circumstances, but Jester didn't know enough about Dwendalian workshop safety laws to dispute it.

And then he was inside her, all at once, one long fast stroke that drove him deeper than he ever could have managed if she hadn't been thoroughly fucked once already. Her high-pitched scream would absolutely be audible in the front of the store, having barely recovered only to be stretched wide open again. He used her horn like a handle to turn her head, and she opened her mouth obligingly so he could fill it with cock again.

It still tasted like sugar, and she made a happy sound of surprise. She sucked eagerly, not that she really needed to. He mostly seemed interested in penetrating her throat again, and all she had to do for that was not gag as the thrusting of one cock pushed her onto another. Lack of necessity was still not enough to stop her, not that it had ever been.

She was humming happily, interspersed with little cries in time with the rhythm his thrusts were setting. He pinched one of her nipples, pulled it only as a consequence of the way her body was bouncing. His hands were big and soft and lovely, and she quite liked the way they felt when he cupped one of her breasts. Her tail wrapped around his waist.

Through the sides of her eyes she could see Pumat's face, his shoulders their usual hunch, his back curved in a way to make his belly less pronounced. He was watching her intently. She raised a hand to her throat to see if she could feel from the outside the way his cock moved.

She _could_ , as a matter of fact.

She pressed her fingers against it experimentally, watched his nostrils flare and felt him move with a little more force. While she was not dedicated enough to this line of work to go choking herself just to watch him lose his mind over it... it occurred to her as an option.

It hadn't taken much, regardless, to get him breathing hard again, and this time she got to _watch_. Sort of. Out of the corner of her eye, which was giving her a little bit of a headache. His lazy smile was absent, eyes intense despite still being half-lidded.

He came straight down her throat, pulling out to fill her mouth, and she swallowed as best she could. Her success was limited. It still tasted like sugar.

He _really_ needed to make a potion out of that.

... the magic that made it taste like that. Not his semen. That would be a strange and hopefully ineffective potion. 

Jester licked at her lips and tried to wipe away what had gotten on her chin, Pumat still holding her horn, still pounding away at her. "This had better not have any side effects," she warned as she licked at her fingers, her voice weak.

"Satisfaction guaranteed," he said, which may have been a joke. "I'm gonna set ya down now," he warned her, so that she could catch herself with her hands as he lowered her to the floor. She made a bed of her arms so that she could rest her forehead on them, catching her breath and trying to decide which pretty sounds she could still make.

"Call if you need anything else," Pumat said.

"Will do," Pumat said.

Then it was just her and Pumat, and nothing to provide resistance except the hardwood. He rearranged her, moving her raised leg back to the floor but keeping her hips up high. He tugged her tail upward, which was as much of a surprise as the first time he'd done it, forcing her hips into the tilt that he wanted. It shouldn't have been possible for him to feel any deeper, but this new position managed it. She sounded like an old wagon on a bumpy road, the small noises of protest that came from an imminent collapse. It was not a sound that boded well for anyone who happened to be riding. 

He paused. "You doing okay down there?" he asked. 

She lifted her head a little to indicate that she had not, in fact, passed out. "I'm good!"

"If it's too much," he began, all laconic hospitality. 

"No!" she said immediately, trying to get up higher on her hands. It took more than _dick_ to defeat Jester Lavorre! 

Even if they were big. And there were three of them. At least three, but up to four, ignoring that they were all technically multiple instances of the same dick and leaving out second appearances by individual dick instances.

This was exactly the kind of situation her math tutors had tried to warn her about.

"I just—I think it will help if I have more to do, maybe," she decided. She rose up on her knees again, arms held out in front of her to catch her if she lost her balance. "If you move more backwards—"

She did not have time to finish the thought before he was already doing it, pulling her on top of him as he got on his back.

"—yes. Like that." She settled in, legs straddling him. " _Hmm_." She rocked a bit, but decided that looking at his boots—lovely as they were—wasn't doing it for her. She gathered up her skirts and lifted her legs so she could wiggle her way around, being careful not to kick him. "There!" She adjusted her dress and her breasts and the spread of her thighs. "How do I look?" she asked, putting her hands up in her hair to pose like a fine courtesan's portrait.

"Pretty," he said, his own hands laced underneath his head.

"Good." She was satisfied with this answer, and with the smile on his face, and the properly attentive cast of his eyes. She reached down to stroke at her clit, and it was easier now to move with more enthusiasm, posing herself in pretty ways on top of him.

This didn't last long before he put his hands on her hips to bounce her, thrusting upward. She didn't stop touching herself, but quickly gave up on any just-so arching of her back. It still wasn't as rough on her as being face-down on the floor had been.

That was clearly an area in need of future improvement.

Most importantly, she could watch his face, the slow fade of his smile as he became singularly focused on her. Nostrils flaring—he'd had his face between her legs, him but not him—he'd filled her and filled her, could do it again, would—her fingers worked furiously at her clit as he worked her on his dick.

"Stop," he said, which was startling enough in its abruptness to make her do so. Then he slammed her hips downward and slammed his upward and his cock was twitching inside her again—him but not him—and she cried out in pleasure and frustration because she could have _finished_.

"Why would you do that?" she demanded, a high-pitched whine of the utmost accusatory distress.

He patted her hip as he sat back up. "Trust me," he said, but she pouted instead because this was the worst thing that had ever happened to anyone, anywhere, for any reason, up to and including having their life declared legally forfeit. He pulled her off him and out of his lap, setting her in a pile of her own skirts on the floor.

He stood up, and... did not put his cock away.

"Did you want me to—?"

"If it's not too much trouble," he said, and she huffed but didn't protest. She sat up taller to reach it, and gave a tentative lick to all the mingling fluids coating his shaft.

It did _not_ taste like sugar.

She liked the taste of skin and salt just fine, didn't mind that bit of sour, but the sugar situation had spoiled her horribly. She didn't know if she could ask him to do that again without implying that his semen was somehow _inadequate_. People didn't like it when that happened, as a rule.

The door to the workshop opened again. "Respectfully, me," said Pumat Prime, "the floor?"

"It just sorta turned out that way," Pumat apologized.

Jester made eye contact with Pumat Prime, and licked, making a show of the way she swallowed.

To her surprise, he took his gloves off and set them on the table, sliding his goggles off of his head. He came closer, and then crouched down beside her. He rested his chin in his hand, his elbow on his knee, and _watched_.

Jester went all _tingly_ in the funniest ways.

Pumat held one of her horns to guide her as she cleaned his cock with her tongue, Pumat Prime watching in a silence. The tension that silence created wasn't unpleasant, was the kind that wound around her stomach and made her press her thighs together.

"I have a well-developed sense of aesthetics, you know," he said finally.

She made the sound of a question as best she could.

"I like pretty things," he said. Pretty clothes, pretty shop, pretty magic items. "You're real pretty." He reached out to run his fingers along the chain that connected one of her earrings to the cap on her horn.

The duplicate Pumat held her still, and rested his cock on her face. Presumably he liked the way it looked. Or, _he_ liked the way it looked. She was unsure if there was something in particular she was supposed to be doing, a face she should be making.

"You're doing good," Pumat Prime reassured her, which didn't say great things about her face-making abilities. At least he still had that big, dopey smile. He put his thumb on her chin, and she took the cue to open her mouth wide and keep it there.

Pumat slowly, _slowly_ slid his cock into her mouth. Not even particularly _far_. It was performative, clearly done so that Pumat could see up-close what she looked like while he did it. Onto her tongue, against her cheek, onto her tongue again.

"You can go on and get back to work," Pumat Prime said eventually.

"Aw," Pumat said. He tousled Jester's hair, and she giggled.

The whole _mood_ was different with the 'real' Pumat Sol, a certain intensity the other ones lacked. The fact that the others were all ultimately following his orders, the things they liked all identical. She was feeling all bubbly and throbbing, still on that high from her almost-orgasm and now worked up even further.

"One of your duplicates made his dick taste like doughnuts," she informed him, "and if you sold a potion to do that you would be the richest man ever to live in the whole world."

"I appreciate your feedback and will take it into consideration," he said, still smiling. "Your voice is sounding a little rough there."

She pouted, rubbing at her throat. "Well, you know—I'm not a _baby_ about it, I think that I can fit more than most people, I just, I don't have a _haversack_ in my mouth—I'm not a _snake_ , I wasn't made to be _dislocating my jaw_ and swallowing things whole, I think I'm doing _pretty well_ under the circumstances. And I was screaming a lot, so that hurt."

He nodded sympathetically through her explanation. Then he reached into his robe, and produced a small vial full of shimmering red liquid, offering it to her. "Give this a try." She took it with caution, popped off the lid and drank it in one quick shot. "Respectfully," he said, "when someone hands you a potion, you're usually going to want to wait until they tell you what it is before you drink it." She froze. "That's a pretty good rule, socially."

"I thought it was to make me feel better!" she protested, her eyes gone wide as saucers.

"There's a lot of ways to feel better," he said, which was not at all reassuring. "That was a minor healing potion."

She sagged with relief. He held up his palm, and she set the empty vial in it. Her throat really did feel better. " _There was a knight who longed to wield a more impressive lance_ ," she sang experimentally. It didn't do anything for how wrung-out she was feeling, but it was something.

"Pretty," he said, scooping her up off the floor. Her tail wrapped around his arm as a reflex. When he set her back down on the table, it was on her stomach, bent over. Her feet didn't touch the ground anyway, so she bent her knees and pointed her feet outward, turning her head to look over her shoulder.

He really was _big_.

Once again her skirts were hiked up high, his cock between her legs. She was all overworked and swollen, and it dragged a groan out of her just to feel the head of it there, arousal stabbing through her. One of his hands was on the table next to her, bent over her. The texture of his worktable's battered surface on her nipples wasn't _bad_ , but it was _something_ , and she was trying to keep herself up on her elbows.

He eased his cock inside of her, and she _wailed_ , legs and toes and tail all curling. Any soreness she may have had from excess friction was gone after that little red vial, replaced by the hungry ache of all her blood having been rerouted to beneath the waist.

A few languorous strokes were all he gave before he pulled out of her, and then she felt his soaking-wet cock press against her ass.

" _Absolutely_ not," she said suddenly, slamming her palm down on the table.

He didn't move. "No?"

"I mean, I can _do_ it," she clarified, because just the feel of it there was making her feel all kinds of interesting ways. "But that is _definitely_ extra."

"Oh."

"That's a _big_ rule. I'm giving you a big discount already! If you're going to put it _there_ I will need one haversack, or many healing potions."

"You'll probably need at least one—"

"What!" 

"—for your throat again—"

"Oh."

"—and so you can sit." She huffed. "Two basic health potions," he offered. 

"Enchanter Pumat Sol!" she scolded, hitting her palm against the table with each word for emphasis. "I will _not_ be haggled down to less than ten potions."

"Five."

He still hadn't moved. His cock was just _there_. She squirmed the smallest bit, biting her lip. "Six."

"Six basic health potions."

"Yes."

"And The Troublemaker."

"Yes." She squirmed a little more, just enough for his dick to press against her a little harder, just enough that it might seem accidental and not like weakness on her part.

"I think we can do that." Her breath went shaky because she couldn't decide if she was pleased. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, but—but be careful, okay?"

The instant he moved, even barely at all, she whimpered. He ran his hand over her thigh, around and underneath her to hook two fingers inside her. Motion by millimeters, without any forceful attempt at penetration, eventually coaxed her to relax. She lowered herself onto the tabletop, her breasts pressed into it from nothing but her own weight.

That small amount of pressure kept increasing, his fingers curling, until suddenly the head was inside her and then wasn't. Just long enough for her to cry out, her back arching.

Again and again, barely deeper each time, until finally he left those few inches she'd managed to take inside her. Her skin felt too small, like she might burst. His thumb found her clit, a light touch at the same time as he thrust and together they made her head spin. Once again he built a rhythm out of it, only touching her clit when his cock was sliding further into her ass. Every thrust made her body move just enough to feel it against the table.

None of it was fast enough to bring her closer to release. Just mounting and mounting and mounting, without an end in sight. If her head were clear enough to be annoyed about it, she would have been. Instead she'd started to wriggle her hips, trying to grind onto his fingers and pushing herself onto him even faster. Her tail had wrapped as far around him as it could, ineffectively trying to pull him close.

Jester turned her head to see him again, if only sideways. He thrust at the same time, could see the way it contorted her face when he did it and so broke the rhythm to do it again immediately.

By the time he'd managed to bury his cock in her ass, she was a writhing, mewling mess. Then it slid back out, everything but the head, and he rubbed at her clit as he drove it all back in and got rewarded with a _scream_. She clenched on his fingers and his cock, arched her whole back, saw stars in her eyes. She hadn't even finished when he did it again, somehow managed to turn the first climax directly into a second, all of her limbs shaking.

She couldn't go anything but limp after that. He took his fingers out of her, and to her surprise bent closer, his chest against her back and his face close to hers. His hands slid underneath her to squeeze her breasts, pounding into her in earnest. Breath noisy in her ear, hot on her skin, crushing her to the table with the whole of him.

One last time, he pumped her full, and she hummed. She arched into it, pressed her back into him, gave a gleeful little series of kicks.

Victory! Success! Glory and honor to the House of Lavorre, conquerors of all comers and whose conquerors always came!

He pressed a quick kiss to the point of her ear. "Oh!" He exhaled a heavy breath as he rose up off of her, and she made a shaky sound when he pulled out.

 _This_ was what satisfaction felt like. Prizes, treasure, the need to sleep for a week or two after a long bath, and the inability to lay comfortably on any side.

"Should I put my pants back on," she asked, "or is there another Pumat somewhere I need to wait for?"

"I won't keep ya," he said, to her palpable relief. She pulled herself all the way up onto the table with her arms, rolling sideways to sit. She winced, trying to keep her weight more to one side as she recovered her underwear, awkwardly navigating her boots through the legs. She fixed the top of her dress, but couldn't seem to find the missing lace for one of her sleeves. She did what she could in the meantime rather than worry about it, fastening her belt back on. Her eyes wandered around the room, interesting and shiny things all over.

"Hey!" she said suddenly, pointing. "It's my ribbon!"

It had been tied into a little loop with a bow, hung on a nail beside various tools.

"Respectfully," he corrected, "that's _my_ ribbon. I did give you a haversack for that one."

"I paid for the haversack with a good fine glaive!" she said, hopping off the table. "And _technically_ the haversack is for everyone." She picked up her cloak where it was all bundled on the floor, still hunting for the missing lace.

He looked to have already cleaned off whatever mess she might have made of him. Or that he'd made of himself. He held up the bag in question. "Is it pink for everyone?"

"... no," she admitted, snatching it back from him. "Okay so it _is_ mine but you shouldn't tell anyone, because the glaive was everyone's even if it was my gold that I used for the rest." She paused. "Pumat said you could do your magic cleaning thing." He looked her over. "The inn where we are staying does not have adequate laundry services," she added.

"That does look like a dress that would require special processing."

"Right?" She looked down at herself. "You can't just use regular soap on this! I haven't looked into what the prices are like around here, but I bet it's bad."

"It adds up," he confirmed. "It's why I learned this cantrip." He gestured to all the trim on his robes. Then he tapped her on the nose with his index finger, and she felt something like a breeze through all her clothes.

Her thighs remained sticky. She rubbed suspiciously at her face.

"... I think you missed a spot."

"Respectfully, I do not believe that I did."

She narrowed her eyes at his apparently-oblivious expression. So _that_ was how it was.

"I can't seem to find one of my laces," she said, changing the subject as she threw her cloak back over her shoulders. "For my sleeve." She shook her stock-straight arm to indicate the problem area. Pumat's brow furrowed, and small frown of concern. Or as small as his frowns were capable of being. He looked at the properly laced sleeve and then back to the loose one. "It should have been with the other one, but it wasn't."

"I'll have to keep an eye out," he said. He turned to head for the front again, and she followed. Her dress was clean, but she still ached, and she wasn't looking forward to her walk back to her room. It was _so far_. And what were her alternatives? Carts? Horses? Everywhere she looked, nightmares. Pumat patted the desk, and she set her haversack on top of it. "Can you bring me those—"

"Healing potions?" finished another Pumat, setting a portable rack of them down.

"Good work staying on top of things, me," Pumat said, gathering up bottles. Jester opened one of the side pouches on the bag. "Six basic healing potions," he said, sliding them into the pouch.

"Do you have another of the little small ones?" she asked tentatively.

"Hmm." He scratched his head. Unexpectedly, he reached into his robe and produced another small vial. "In case I can't find that missing lace of yours," he explained. She was delighted, downing it immediately.

 _Much_ better. Though once the pain was gone she found herself missing the tangible reminder of what she'd done.

"And The Troublemaker," he said, holding the necklace out for her. She giggled as she took it out of his hands.

"How does it work?" she asked. "Does it start as soon as I put it on?"

"Naw, you can wear that right now if you want. Effect starts when you touch it and focus. I have a card here with instructions, I'll just tuck that in here with the potions for ya."

Jester had started putting it on as soon as he had said that it was safe for her to do so, but the latch didn't want to catch. She spun around. "I can't get it—will you do it for me, please?"

"I would be happy to," he said, his fingertips against the back of her neck and taking the chains from her. Being able to see what he was doing had it fastened much faster. She spun back around as soon as he'd let her go, sleeves fluttering.

"How do I look?" she asked, raising her chin to give the best view of the necklace.

"Very pretty."

" _Excellent_." She gathered up her bag, closing all of the pouches and checking that everything was in order. Minus her one tragically mismatched sleeve. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Enchanter Pumat Sol."

"Always a pleasure, Miss Jester."

He waited until Jester had left the shop to speak again.

"Hand it over," he said, holding out one hand palm-up. He did not need to specify who, or what. One of his duplicates shuffled over, and sheepishly placed the missing lace into his hand. It looked like a delicate length of blue ribbon, woven fine, and he pulled it taut to examine it. "This wasn't part of the deal," he scolded.

"Sorry," his duplicate said. "You can tell her we found it, next time."

That would be _indiscreet_. 

"It's paid for," he said, the empty vial on his desk. He wrapped it around his thumb to make a loop and find the middle, and tied it into a figure-eight loop. He brought it with him back into the workshop, and hooked it onto a nail next to the other one. He ran his fingers along the trailing strands before he let it go.

Back to work.


End file.
